Light of the Radiant (The Reckoning Book 2)

by Matthew Ward

  At last, there came a time when the veil slipped fully from my sight. I didn't believe it to be so at first, for I was afraid that if I allowed myself to hope, the illusion would vanish. But the light did not fade.

  I lay in my bed at the embassy, warm sunlight streaming in through the window. And there, at my bedside, smiling down at me, sat Arianwyn.

  "Welcome back," she said with a smile. "We were worried about you. I was worried about you."

  I traced the outline of my scalp wound. It throbbed at my touch, and I quickly snatched my fingers away.

  "Don't worry," Arianwyn said. "You've a thick skull. What few brains you had are still intact."

  "How long have I been asleep?" I croaked from a parched mouth.

  "Ten days, on and off."

  What? I hauled myself upright, or at least I tried to. Halfway there, my arms lost their strength and I fell back.

  "Take it slowly." Arianwyn helped me prop myself against the headboard. "We gave you what food we could when you were lucid enough to eat, just as the servants have done what they can to keep you clean, but you're bound to be terribly weak."

  She wasn't wrong. Even though they weren't carrying any weight, my arms trembled. "I can't believe it's been so long," I said distantly.

  Arianwyn took a jug from the beside and poured some water into a mug. She offered it to me, and I took it with shaking hands. Thankfully, I managed to drink a few mouthfuls without dropping it. Managing that simple act made me feel much better, as did the taste of the water itself.

  "You were lucky it wasn't longer," Arianwyn said. "Your wound was poisoned – akra root." Her lips twisted at the memory. "The embassy physician missed it entirely. You were just getting worse and worse. I thought, well, I thought you were going to die." She looked directly at me, and for the first time I noticed the red circles around her eyes.

  "Why didn't I? Has Zorya returned?" The sentinel was a savant of the healer's art. If anyone could have brought me from the precipice, it was she.

  "No." Her eyes flickered with concern. "There's been no sign." She shook her head. "Actually, it was Karov's personal physician."

  "Karov?" I asked with a mixture of surprise and alarm. "I shall be lucky to survive after all."

  "You'll be fine," she said soothingly. "He may not be my favourite person these days, but he feels badly for what happened. Apparently there was some miscommunication about who was supposed to be guarding the stepping gate. He says he's looking into it."

  "I'm sure he is," I said flatly.

  "I understand your suspicions, but he seemed genuinely upset. Whatever he may think of you personally – and I believe you misjudge this to no small degree – the idea that a dignitary of your rank can be assaulted, practically on the steps of the council palace, appals him."

  "Perhaps," I allowed grudgingly.

  Arianwyn sighed. "Edric, Mikel's not a bad man, or even a foolish one. He just sees the world the wrong way around sometimes. I told you before that he didn't want to marry me out of love, but because of my family name. Sad to say, that's normal in the circles Mikel moves; marriage is merely an alliance of families and of blood, except for the lucky ones."

  "It's not so different further east."

  She went on as if I hadn't spoken. "What I didn't tell you, was that he thought a union between the Karovs and the Trelans would allow me to rise above my family's somewhat complicated history. In secret, I'd still have been the heir of Sidara, of course, and a boon to his ambitions, but in public I'd have been free of her shadow."

  "And still you weren't tempted?" I knew how much she'd hated Sidara when she was younger.

  "A little, perhaps. As I said, love and marriage are a union enjoyed only by the lucky. Mikel is kind, attentive and even generous when he's out of the public eye; but no, it wasn't the proper path for me." She took my hand in hers.

  "It might have been less eventful."

  "Perhaps," she agreed, "but the heart wants what the heart wants, and I would have it no other way."

  There was silence for a time, not the uncomfortable silence between two people with nothing to say, but that of two people between whom nothing needs to be said.

  "What else have I missed?" I asked at last.

  "Not a very great deal," Arianwyn replied. "Endless debating in council about how best to proceed. The serathi, to their credit, aren't seeking to exploit the religious connotations of their arrival, but a few of my colleagues aren't so restrained."

  "Magorian?"

  "He's probably the loudest. Before you ask, Mikel seeks to keep it as an alliance of state. He's leaving Sidara out of it, at least for now."

  I grunted noncommittally, not yet ready to give Karov any credit.

  "As for anything else, Aldan's doubled the guard on the embassy. I gather he's written to the Emperor about your condition."

  I winced. "I don't suppose you know the details?"

  "I haven't asked to see it. He's not entirely happy at having given so many Tressians the run of the embassy. I didn't want to provoke him further."

  I could understand what she meant. Whatever Arianwyn was to me, to Aldan she was simply another Tressian councillor. "Let's just hope my uncle doesn't do anything disproportionate. I'd better write to him myself, just to be certain. Do I take it that I've had other witnesses to my infirmity, Karov's physician aside?"

  "One or two. Captain Nierev and Emmeline both visited, and Edrevor sat with you much of the time that I wasn't able. I understand he talked to you more or less ceaselessly. He even sang, on a few occasions."

  "It's no wonder that I stayed asleep then," I said uncharitably. I'd heard Torev sing many times – often when he'd been drinking – and he had a fine baritone, if a trifle loud.

  "It was that or let him loose on the streets," Arianwyn said. "He was seethingly angry for the first day or so, and all for turning the city upside down until he found the guilty party. Captain Nierev had a long talk with him about the line between civilian law-keeping and martial action."

  "Really? How did that work out?"

  "She faced him down."

  I searched Arianwyn's expression for any trace of a lie, and found none. "I'm impressed."

  "She had a good teacher," Arianwyn said with a smile. "Besides, Edrevor had other things to do."

  There was something in the way that she had spoken that made me take notice. "Such as what?" I asked carefully.

  "There's been another fallen attack in the Contested Lands. The serathi offered to deal with it, but Karov insisted Edrevor do so."

  "Sounds like Karov wanted him gone," I mused. "I wonder why."

  "Edrevor thought so too. He's left Emmeline behind. She'll carry messages to him when needed, or she will do once she's recovered."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You weren't the only one wounded that night. Emmeline had to cut her way through three or four others before she reached us. At least one of them got in a good blow. I don't know how she held onto the horse with the amount of blood she must have lost." Arianwyn paused. "She's not spoken of it, but I think it was the first time she'd had to kill someone – a man, I mean, rather than a fallen. Between that, and what happened to you... Well, I think she's bearing it badly."

  "Have you spoken to her?"

  "Once or twice. She's staying at her father's house. I'm not exactly a welcome guest there."

  "It seems I owe Emmeline my life. Both our lives, in fact. I'm ashamed to say I suspected her of telling Karov about the serathi."

  "My poor, suspicious Edric," Arianwyn brushed her fingers across my cheek. "But you're correct, we owe her. I could have stopped this, had I not abandoned my magic. That's why I've taken up Azyra's offer of tutelage."

  I felt a sudden chill, though I wasn't sure why. "Are you certain that's a good idea?"

  "No, no I'm not," Arianwyn admitted, "but I don't ever want to be a bystander again. I'm a daughter of a proud lineage, and it's time I started acting like it again."

  Her tone ha
d taken on familiar steel, and I suspected she'd already practiced the line on someone else – probably Koschai.

  "Just be careful," I cautioned. "Azyra strikes me less and less as someone who does things merely out of a desire to aid others."

  She nodded. "I know. It was difficult at first, but I've already learnt a lot more control than I ever knew before. There are sometimes headaches, but I think it will be worth it. It's certainly worth missing a few council meetings over."

  "Did you get headaches before?"

  "On occasion," she allowed. "Especially when I pushed myself. I've been a long time without practice. Hopefully it will get easier."

  I considered telling her to be careful, but decided all I'd achieve was her annoyance. I knew how much she'd feared using her magic again, and I hated that she'd felt forced to re-embrace it based on what had essentially been my failure to protect us both. On the other hand, the magic was a gift, and we both knew, deep down, that it was her duty to use it in a good cause if she could, so perhaps this was for the best.

  Yes, added a muttering voice at the back of my mind, it's a bit like being the heir to an Empire, and finally fulfilling your obligations to your people.

  "Anyway, I should go," Arianwyn announced, forestalling any opportunity I had to argue the point with myself. "I'm already late for a council meeting, but under the circumstances I'm sure they'll understand." Her tone made it clear that she didn't much care if they understood or not. "I'll tell Aldan you're awake, and ask him to send up some food. I also think a bath might be in order. I don't wish to offend, but you smell dreadful." She stood up. Then, to prove that she was above such petty concerns as foul odours, leaned forward and kissed me lightly on the forehead. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

  "You've arranged a praetorian escort for yourself, I assume?" I asked.

  "And who amongst them would I trust?" she countered with a smile. "I've had at least as many praetorians try to kill me this last year as I've had seek to preserve me. Besides, I have guardians of my own."

  Something heavy shifted against the floorboards. I propped myself up further in the bed – successfully this time – and saw two bronze lions haul their way upright. Jaspyr and Fredrik stared back at me for a moment with unmoving eyes, then padded gently after their mistress.

  "They awoke after my first lesson, and followed me ever since." Arianwyn gave one last, brilliant smile, and then she and the lions were gone.

  *******

  Aldan materialised shortly after Arianwyn had departed. He bore a tray upon which rested not only a hearty breakfast, but also a letter – a copy of the missive he'd sent to Tregard. While Aldan wasn't overtly relieved to see me awake – such would have been against what he saw as the household's hierarchy – there was a small glimmer of a smile as he placed his burden carefully on the bed. Then, after informing me that bathwater would be ready for me as soon as I were ready for it, he bowed and left the room.

  Food and hot water did much to restore me. Were it not for my swollen brow and the lingering ache therein, it would have been all too easy to forget how close I'd come to death. I was also cheered to see that Aldan's letter did not, as I'd feared, contain anything to provoke a problematic response from the Emperor. It simply stated, in a calm and lucid fashion, that I'd been assaulted, but was receiving treatment for my injuries, and that furthermore the Tressia council had given assurances that my attacker would be brought to justice. Had any progress been made in that regard? Arianwyn had hinted that none had, but I'd forgotten to ask. Coming to a decision, I hauled on my robes, buckled on my sword – which fortunately someone had thought to recover for me – and headed downstairs.

  Aldan was not altogether pleased to see me up and about so soon, and even less so when he learned I intended to take a stroll into the city. In the end, I think the only thing that stopped him from physically barring my exit was when I agreed to take no fewer than four of the embassy guards with me.

  A short while later, I was glad Aldan had insisted. Not because I felt in any danger of being subject to another attack – it was still broad daylight – but because by the time I reached the guardhouse, my legs were wobbly with fatigue, and I'd more than once leant upon an escort for stability. It was hardly the behaviour of a proud Hadari prince, but then nor was falling face-first into the gutter. All in all, this almost made up for being shadowed by four hulking royal guardsmen.

  Almost.

  Unfortunately, it seemed my trip to the guardhouse had been a wasted one. Nierev had discovered nothing about my attackers, or about the false herald who'd waylaid Emmeline. There'd been plenty of bodies to examine – six white-robed and one black-clad, to be precise – but there wasn't so much as a single prisoner, or any hope of gaining such.

  The black-clad fellow, Nierev had identified as one Algor Narosk. He was apparently a hired blade of some reputation amongst the city's criminal classes. No one would miss him – no one whose opinion mattered, at least. Nierev thought it highly unlikely he'd been out in the street on his own initiative, and that meant there might be a paymaster she could trace – or so she'd thought. Sadly, none of her informants and spies had yet shed any light on the matter, or else had gone uncharacteristically silent. That Narosk had been slain by one of the false Sidarists was obvious. There'd been a blackish-purple tint about the wound, consistent with akra poison.

  None of the white-robed bodies had been identified, which was not so surprising. There were thousands of people in the city; Nierev and her constables couldn't be expected to know them all.

  Before I left on what was to be a long and tiring journey back to the embassy, I added one other problem to Nierev's concerns: I asked her to look for Zorya. It had now been nearly a fortnight since anyone had seen the sentinel, and to my mind that couldn't bode well.

  All in all, I was back in bed and asleep less than five hours after I'd first woken, and slept the uninterrupted slumber of the thoroughly exhausted until dawn the next morning.

  After sunrise, I headed to Arianwyn's house with the same watchful escort close in tow, and was pleased to discover the effort of walking considerably less draining. None of which made the royal guard any less attentive. Indeed, convincing them that I should be allowed to speak with Arianwyn in private took no small effort. In the end, I trumped their invocation of Aldan's orders by alluding to Jamar's profound disapproval, and they permitted Arianwyn and I to retire to the sitting room. As I left, I saw one of my escort begin a doomed attempt at out-staring Jaspyr.

  Arianwyn was not at her best. Her hair was in unusual disarray, her eyes were worn and she sank into an armchair by the fire only a fraction less heavily than I'd collapsed into bed the previous evening.

  "You look well," she said.

  "You don't." I eased myself onto a couch opposite.

  "Flatterer. You could be a little more polite. I was up much of the night reading that wretched book of yours."

  "And your tiredness has nothing at all to do with Azyra's lessons?"

  "Maybe a little," she allowed. With a sudden surge of excitement, she leaned forward and cupped her hands together. "Look."

  For a long moment, nothing happened, then tendrils of wispy white light formed an opalescent figure a few inches high above her palms. It was a replica of me, down to the swollen brow. I smiled. I'd seen Koschai perform a similar feat on Skyhaven, but never observed Arianwyn attempt anything of the sort. Moreover, the detail on the figure she'd conjured was far finer than I'd seen in Koschai's work. As I watched, the features and form shifted from mine to Koschai's, and thence to Zorya's.

  "Very impressive."

  "I've never been able to do this," she replied, obviously pleased. "Fine control's much harder that you might think."

  The figure's features shifted from Zorya's, to Constans', to mine and back to Zorya's. "Have you spoken of Zorya to the serathiel?"

  "A little," she admitted. "I know you thought it a poor idea, but I couldn't help you any further. I thought perhaps I could h
elp Zorya."

  "And did you?"

  "Not really." She closed her hands, and the figure vanished. "Azyra wasn't a lot of help. She'd heard of Zorya from my father, I think, and assured me that she would never order a drudge returned to Skyhaven if it had settled elsewhere."

  "I suppose it had to be tried," I said.

  "It did," she said with a sigh. "I'm not sure why you've taken against Azyra so. She's cold, and given to misinterpreting the simplest things, but she means well enough."

  "I suppose she does. Did she ask after me at all?"

  "No, but Adanika did. I finally met her today."

  "And what did you think?"

  "She's warmer than the serathiel," Arianwyn mused, "but I couldn't say what I made of her beyond that. She's very careful with herself."

  We talked for a while after about what I'd learned from Nierev – or more precisely what I had not learned – before I finally managed to steer Arianwyn back to the subject of the book.

  "It's a very odd work," she said, rising to her feet and reclaiming the volume from a nearby bookshelf. "It doesn't say anything about this Reckoning of the serathiel's, but it does talk in some detail about the Great Powers themselves."

  Gathering up her skirts, Arianwyn took a seat next to me, and proceeded to point out one series of unidentifiable squiggles after another. "I won't bother you with the stories of Ashana and Astarra, because I'm sure you know them far better than either I or the author, just as I'm sure that Jack and Malgyne..." It was odd to hear her talk of them using their Hadari, rather than their Tressian names "...need little introduction, but what about Astor?"

  "I know he's a Maker, God of Fire, Forging and so on," I replied. "In my people's stories, he's an insular and nomadic figure, seldom involving himself in the sisters' quarrels."

  "What if I use the other name given for him here?" she asked innocently. "The Burning Lord? Does that provoke a reaction?"

  I leaned forward. "That's truly what it says?"

  "I'd hardly lie, would I? It speaks of him dwelling in the deeping halls of the world, sending forth his servants to build great works."